


the real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes

by rensbloom



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Post-Episode: S18E47 Protect & Serve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 04:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12335625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rensbloom/pseuds/rensbloom
Summary: Serena has never felt anything like this with a man. She has never felt anything like this with anyone.





	the real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes

Serena Campbell is heterosexual.

She’s never felt romantically towards another woman in her life. Of course, she can appreciate when another woman is attractive, but she’s well aware that that’s not the same thing. When Elinor came home when she was fifteen dragging a spotty, scowling boy behind her, a boy who trailed a cloud of perilously strong aftershave that hit her right in the back of her throat as he trudged past her, she accepted it and never thought much more about it. Her daughter was interested in boys, she’d get married, she’d have children and that would be that. Just like she had. She just hoped that for Elinor it wouldn’t end in divorce.

She sits on the edge of her bed, staring at her bare toes on the carpet, nails painted dark red like Shiraz, trying fruitlessly to make head or tail of the havoc in her brain.

She thinks about theatre, and what happened with Fletch. She feels sick to the stomach when she remembers seeing that the screwdriver had penetrated the heart. Remembers looking at her hands and Bernie’s, stained with his blood. Remembers feeling an overwhelming, dizzying urge to bolt out of there.

But Bernie had looked at her with those dark, soulful eyes and she’d felt her heartbeat calm just from knowing she was there. She recalls another surgery, weeks ago. _It’s okay_ , she remembers her saying, those same dark eyes steadying her with every word. _We’ve got this, Serena._

She thinks about theatre for as long as she can. Stares at the carpet, remembering every second, every word that was said. She drags the memory out in as much detail as she can recall. Fresh in her mind as it is, she can afford to.

The question is, why is she choosing to torture herself?

Serena lies down flat on the bed, stares up at the ceiling. She can hear her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

_She kissed me._

_And I…I kissed her back._

Serena brings her fingers to her lips. Just a few hours earlier, Bernie Wolfe had kissed them. She feels light, dizzy, a little bit frightened. What did it mean? She thinks it over and over again, not coming to an answer.

Quickly, she searches for a comforting thought. Something that will calm her, something that will make her smile.

Bernie’s face swims into her mind.

And suddenly Serena can’t stop thinking about it. That kiss. The way Bernie had looked at her lips, and she’d felt this little rush in her chest – what did that mean? And then suddenly, before she’d had any time to process it, Bernie’s lips were against her own. She’d been so shocked! She’d moved back without even thinking about it, and Bernie had felt it, moved back too, searched her face to make sure she was all right. And Serena hadn’t been sure she was all right. She was feeling what seemed like a hundred different emotions at once, and with anyone else she might have got up and run.

But Bernie’s face was so gentle and concerned, and yet it wasn’t sympathy Serena was feeling. No, she would never kiss anyone back out of sympathy. She kissed only when she felt something – and God, was she feeling things after that kiss. Her nerve endings were on fire, her blood pulsing with the feel of Bernie’s lips, the taste of them, how soft they were, nothing like a man’s. Serena didn’t want to think about anything else or about what this meant, only that right now, in this moment, she wanted to kiss her again.

And so she had.

It had been strange, the second time. This time she had initiated, so she no longer felt the same shock when their lips met; instead, she felt her body thrum with pleasure. She remembers pushing Bernie’s hand further into her hair, desperate for more contact, trying to say without words _yes, I want this, I want you._ And Bernie’s relief had been palpable as their lips touched again and again, feather-light, searching, a wordless communication that was a different kind of beautiful.

As she tracks through the memory, Serena vaguely remembers tugging at Bernie’s hair tie until the blonde curls fell loose, remembers threading her fingers through them and thinking they were just as soft and silky as she imagined they’d be. She realises with a sudden jolt that she’s been wanting to do it for a long, long time, that deep down in her subconscious she’s been yearning to touch that hair. Wonders how it would feel as it trailed down her body, if it would be just as soft against her inner thighs as Bernie dipped her head between them.

Serena has never felt anything like this with a man. She has never felt anything like this with anyone.

She stands up and walks to the window, looking out at the darkness outside. The stars sparkle up above her, and a crescent moon bathes the garden in light.

It had been nothing like kissing a man. The soft lips and hair were one thing, but the feeling of Bernie’s body pressed against hers as they edged ever closer to each other was quite another. She remembers growing bold for a moment, letting her hand slide over the side of Bernie’s breast. She had never touched another woman’s breast before, and through a scrub top it hadn’t been quite as telling as she’d hoped, but it had been enough for a rush of pleasure to shoot between her legs, quickly followed by another when Bernie whimpered her approval.

Serena drew back then. She knew they’d have taken things too far otherwise, and as much as she enjoyed a good romp, she didn’t know the first thing about doing it with a woman. Besides, she was too old to do it on a theatre floor – she was going stiff merely from sitting on one for the last half hour.

Bernie ran her thumb over Serena’s cheek and Serena felt herself go weak. The look in Bernie’s eyes was almost too much for her. They were breathless and silent, and Serena was terrified. The moment their lips had parted she should have regained the capacity for logical thought, but all her brain was producing was garbled nonsense. There was a little part of her brain that was begging her to kiss Bernie again, and that really, were theatre floors so bad? What was the worst that could happen? A bad back and the potential embarrassment of getting caught. A small price to pay, her traitorous mind reasoned.

“Bernie?” Serena whispered, blocking these thoughts out as best she could.

“Yes?” Bernie was still stroking her cheek.

Serena wanted to ask a thousand different questions, including but not limited to: What does this mean? Am I a lesbian now? Do you have feelings for me, or did you just kiss me because we’re tired and upset and it’s been a long day?

Instead she said, “I have to go. It’s late and Jason’s expecting me.”

Serena stops thinking there. She doesn’t want to remember what happened after that. The way Bernie dropped her hand from her cheek. The way she quickly scrambled up, looking flustered, embarrassed. Serena could have apologised, said she didn’t mean it to come out like that. She could have taken her hand and told her that whatever this was, she wanted to figure it out.

Instead she quickly grabbed her stuff, changed, and bolted without a second glance, leaving Bernie behind her in the dust.

Serena gets into bed and lies on her side, staring at the clock. It’s two in the morning and she’s going to be exhausted tomorrow.

“She kissed me,” she says softly into the dark. “And I kissed her back.”

It’s probably as far as she’s going to get for tonight. But at least the thought is comforting now, rather than frightening.

As she begins to drop off to sleep, she thinks of those soft lips and blonde curls one more time and feels a little smile spread across her face. They’ll figure it out, she thinks. She’ll find some way to understand what she feels. She knows she will, because she wants to. Because there’s one thing she is sure of, and that’s that she doesn’t want tonight to be the last time she ever kisses Bernie Wolfe.

Serena Campbell is heterosexual.

Or at least, that’s what she thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Written in honour of National Coming Out Day, and I truly hope that if any of you have taken that step today, you are feeling appropriately proud of yourselves. You deserve a big hug and an even bigger glass of Shiraz.  
> Xo Ren


End file.
